Roaring Water
by darksupernatural
Summary: Sam and Dean are hunting a poltergeist which gets the better of them. What happens when Dean has to face his fears for Sam's sake? Can he get to him before it's too late? Warning: Some language. Complete in three parts.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: So I've finally managed more than a one shot! This one, in it's three parts, goes out to my biggest supporters that have managed to keep bugging me until I pulled this off. I know it's not my best work, but I think it's gonna take a heck of a determined muse whipping me into shape to beat War Zone. So I'm sorry if it's disappointing to some of you. I've also been sick so don't punish me too harshly.**

**Anyhow, mentioning those supporters, this goes to my dear friends Peanut and her husband, Soncnica and a few others who have wondered where the heck I disappeared to. Also, for someone else who encouraged me to try something different once in a while,(I hope you know who you are) there's a little bit of chapter three that I hope you'll like. Just don't shoot me!**

**Roaring Water**

Dean leaned forward on the chair, the hard plastic beginning to feel comfortable to his now numb ass. His eyes were flickering between various monitors with squiggling lines and blinking numbers and his brother. His too still, too pale brother. His voice was raspy from talking to his unresponsive brother, the brother that hadn't so much as opened his eyes, in the last…Dean glanced at his watch…three days, fourteen hours, fifty three minutes and twelve seconds. "Hey, ya know this is gettin' real old little brother." Dean quipped as he scrubbed a calloused hand over his weary features. Dean stood, his back cracking, and feet screaming as pins and needles attacked them. He leaned over the bed, resting a hand on his brother's shoulder, and the other carding back through is long hair.

"The crap we get ourselves into huh?" Dean touched Sam's cheek, careful of the band that wrapped around his head and held the ventilator tube in place. "I need coffee Sammy. Be back." Dean left the room, following the white tiled hallway down the corridor. He stopped at the coffee machine and quickly filled a white Styrofoam cup with the hot sludge. He raised it to his mouth, the smell assaulting his nostrils as his mind went elsewhere.

**Four days earlier…**

Dean pulled his bolt cutters up and pinched the bolt of the heavy lock, clipping through with a resounding _clank._ Sam sidled up to the door beside him as Dean dropped the lock to the concrete beneath their feet and stowed the bolt cutters. Sam's shotgun was raised and he held out the other hand, looking expectantly at Dean. His hand reached into the duffel and pulled out two small fabric bags. "Dude, same bags Missouri set us up with?"

"Yeah. Mojo bags. Full of the good stuff."

"Good, this poltergeist is getting way too vicious. It's drowned three people, knocking them over the edge of the dam and into the siphons for the water treatment plant." Sam said, gesturing to the twenty foot span of thick circular concrete walls below. The sound seemed to Dean's ears to get louder as Sam drew his attention to the swirling waters draining down through screens some fifty feet below. Sam opened the door and cast a quick glance at his brother. "Dude, we gotta work fast. This bastard finds out what we're doin' things are gonna get bad."

"Yep. You get right, I'll go left. Get the back corner first and get out of the pump shack."

Sam moved in and to the right, quickly finding a secure corner behind a vent screen to tuck the first mojo bag into. Dean found a grate near the back wall at the left corner and slipped his bag inside. He was just standing upright when a cloud of breath fogged the air before his eyes. Dean flicked his gaze to Sam, seeing the matching cloud of air emerging from his lips. "Oh crap." Dean mouthed, pulling his gun up and at the ready. He and Sam both ran for the front corners of the shack, a concrete building that housed little more than a massive, whirring, rumbling pump that ran water from the dam through a filtration plant and pumped it the seven miles to the nearest town. Sam tucked another bag into a seam in the concrete and headed for the door. Dean moved to place his last mojo bag and glanced at Sam, who was headed for the door. The temperature plummeted in the room and Sam felt himself flying forward, shoved hard from behind. His chest hit the concrete and metal door frame, winding him as he felt something give in his chest, pain making his vision gray out. Sam slid to the floor, gasping for breath.

He coughed raggedly, the world spinning as Dean pulled him roughly to his feet. Pain coursed through him as Dean let go of his arm and moved to tuck the last bag into the corner. It fell from his hand as Dean was knocked backwards through the door. He heard Dean cry out. Sam rushed to the door just in time to see Dean topple over the concrete barrier that surrounded the walkway around the pump shack. The poltergeist intended Dean to be his next fall victim.

"DEAN!" Sam cried, feeling a different kind of agony. He rushed to the barrier, afraid of seeing his broken brother so many feet below. He heard harsh breathing, not sure if it came from him or something else. He looked below, seeing a set of boots, attached to flailing legs, hugged by dark colored jeans. Dean was dangling from a support brace just beneath the wall.

"Thank god. Dean!"

"Sam!" Sam leaned over the rail and reached for Dean.

"Hang on!" he grated, feeling his broken ribs move once more as he put weight on his chest. He groaned, pain making black spots dance across his vision, making him lose track of Dean momentarily.

"No Sammy! The mojo bag. I dropped it! You have to waste the bastard. GO! 'M alright!" Sam heard Dean huffing as he fought to hold on to the rail, feeling the short hairs on the back of his neck stand on end even as a cold breeze washed over him. He felt a pull and the poltergeist yanked him backwards, slamming him into the block wall of the pump shack.

"SAM!" Dean cried, gripping the rail with both hands as he heard Sam's grunt of pain. He used his upper body strength to try and pull himself up, gripping at the concrete wall. He lost his grip when a blindingly bright light flashed from above and the whole structure groaned as the poltergeist screeched. The light went out and Dean looked up to see Sam leaning over the wall.

"Reach up Dean." Sam panted, reaching down a long arm. He groaned.

"No! You're hurt."

"Dean." Dean tried to pull himself up again and slid along the support rail, his feet kicking out as he fought to find purchase. "DEAN!" Sam cried, reaching further down. Dean raised his right arm, fear in his eyes, and gripped Sam's wrist. The added weight pulled Sam down against the top of the barrier. He gasped, his breath leaving him. Sam tasted copper in the back of his throat, pain lancing through him. Dean's hand slid down Sam's forearm and Sam gripped tighter, fingers digging in painfully. He pulled as Dean fought to grip the wall with his other hand. Dean pulled as Sam leaned down further, allowing Dean to grip his shoulders. Sam wrapped his arms around Dean's torso and pulled him over the wall. Sam fell backwards, Dean landing on top of him, panting heavily. Sam groaned and curled in on himself, dislodging Dean. He coughed, blood flecks flying from his lips to discolor the concrete.

"Sam?" Dean said, sitting up as Sam continued to cough harshly, the sound dissolving into a painful wheezing gurgle. "Sammy!"

"Can't…bre-breathe." Sam rasped, blood bubbles coating the corner of his mouth.

"Fuck!" Dean breathed, putting a hand under Sam's cheek and raising his head. Sam's mouth was lax, blood dripping with saliva from his lips. His face was pale, and his breathing was more of a _hitchwheezerattle_. "Okay, I'm gonna get you to the hospital. 'S only nine miles away. C'mon, let's get you on your feet." Dean hauled Sam up, grappling to keep him upright as Sam sagged against him. "W-w-w-whoa. Hey, I gotcha." Dean tipped Sam's lolling head up and ducked his own to meet Sam's half mast eyes. "You just keep breathin' ya hear me? I gotcha." Dean held Sam close and steady as he walked his brother to the car. He eased Sam into the passenger seat, settling him back against the leather.

******

Dean pulled the coffee cup away from his lips, never taking a drink. He dumped it in the trash, feeling himself pale as he fought back bile. He swallowed hard and repeatedly, not feeling any relief. Dean turned and rushed for the bathroom down the hall. He barreled through the door and into a stall, falling to his knees. Dean wretched painfully, bringing up bile and little else since he couldn't remember the last time he'd eaten. The heaves continued, tears leaking from his eyes which he hurriedly dashed away. He panted until his cramping abdominal muscles settled and then he pushed himself to his feet, rinsing his mouth before making his swaying way back to his brother's side. He paused in the door, smiling half heartedly at the nurse that was leaning over Sam's bed.

"How is he, Teresa?" He asked, his voice gritty from his battle with the porcelain basin down the hall.

"No change Dean. I'm sorry." She brushed Sam's hair back from his closed eyes. "The doctor scheduled another set of tests this afternoon. It should let us know how his lung is healing."

"Thanks." Dean said, resuming his seat by Sam's side. Teresa squeezed Dean's shoulder as she walked past.

Dean reached out and gripped Sam's lax hand, his fingers curling around Sam's. "Hey, tol'ya I'd be back. Dude, I swear, after this we are so hitting Vegas. Y'know, play a little Blackjack. High stakes poker…" Dean ran a hand back over his spiky hair, pausing to work a cramp out of the tight muscles of his neck. "Man, I don't care if we just spend a week in the freakin' car…I jus' want ya back. I need ya back Sammy." Dean leaned forward, resting his forehead on the back of his hand where it overlapped Sam's. He breathed raggedly, eyes scrunched closed as a tear worked it's way from between his lids, finally feeling the silence lull him into the arms of darkness.

_******_

Dean slid behind the wheel and fired the engine, a hand going to Sam's shoulder after shifting the car to drive. He peeled out, casting glances at Sam seemingly every couple seconds as he floored the car and sped down the road from the dam towards town. Dean's stomach lurched at the sound of Sam's ragged breathing. Sam's head lolled on the seat back, his eyes closing. Blood bubbled from between his parted lips, slowly rolling down the corner of his mouth to his chin. Dean reached a hand over and plastered it to Sam's racing, thready pulse. "No, nononono."

Sam shuddered, drawing in a breath and releasing it on a bubbling sigh, going limp on the seat. Dean's hand shifted from Sam's neck to his shoulder, settling Sam back against the door panel.

"Sam!" Dean reached again for Sam's pulse, feeling nothing. "NO!" Dean swerved the car out around another vehicle and cut back over, flooring the gas with a roar of the V8 engine and an irate horn blare from the other vehicle.

Dean slammed on the brakes and spun the wheel, screeching into the parking lot of the Emergency room, realizing it was really no more than a sophisticated hospital. Four floors tall, it looked more like a rambling set of offices than a hospital. He pulled the Impala nearly flush with the hospital entrance bay. Dean flew from the driver's seat as two nurses who'd seen the haphazard arrival of the black classic, came through the automatic doors. "I NEED HELP!" Dean said, bolting around the side of the car and easing the door open catching his brother's tumbling body as Sam threatened to slide out onto the pavement. One of the nurses, a small brunette, turned and raced back into the building, returning just seconds later with a gurney, doctor and an orderly.

The nurse who was at Dean's side examining Sam, looked up and spoke to the doctor that ran up. "We've got respiratory arrest, bleeding from the mouth and nose." She said, stepping back and pulling Dean with her as the doctor and orderly stepped in and eased Sam from the car and onto the gurney. Dean fought her until she spoke quietly to him.

"Let them give him the help he needs. I'll make sure you're close at all times, just don't interfere." The doctor was examining Sam with a worried frown on his face.

"Let's go." the doctor said, looking at Dean as they moved Sam. He blasted some rapid fire questions Dean's way, which Dean answered, somewhat dazedly, his eyes never leaving his brother as they rushed Sam inside. _"When did he stop breathing? How long ago did this happen?" _ The nurse stopped Dean at the doors as Sam was rushed through. Dean gasped, standing on his toes to look over her head and watch the doors close between him and his little brother.

"Can I get you anything?" The woman asked.

"Sammy."

"They're the best team in this area. Doctor Nelson and Teresa. They work miracles." She squeezed his shoulder reassuringly. "I'm Julia. If you need anything just find me."

Dean sagged into one of the hard plastic chairs, his legs too shaky to hold him up. He rested his elbows on his knees and ran both hands over his haggard face, staring down at the white tile with the speckled pattern. Time seemed to slow for Dean, down to the point where he could hear the clock ticking along the wall across the room from him. Dean found himself going over the hunt once more. _ What the fuck went wrong?_

******

"Family of Sam Tyler?"

Dean still stared at the tile, his mind elsewhere, not hearing the nurse. He felt a hand on his shoulder and started out of his reverie. "You're Sam's brother, right?" Dean looked up into the face of a nurse about his age, a woman with light brown hair and green eyes. She was smaller than he expected, almost diminutive, maybe five and a half feet tall. She squeezed his shoulder again with a surprising amount of strength. Dean made to stand and she eased him back to the chair.

"Dean. How's Sammy?" Dean questioned as she sat down on it's hard plastic companion.

"Sam held his own through the surgery. We fixed his right lung, where his rib had punctured it. You know he had stopped breathing just before you pulled in with him. That's where the complications arose. We got him back and performed the surgery. He arrested again, this time from internal bleeding pressing against his heart and lungs from a nicked artery caused by a splinter that separated from his rib. I'm sorry…"

"What?"

"Sam is on a ventilator. He's not breathing on his own. He's not comatose but his brain activity levels are less than we'd like. The oxygen deprivation plays a part in that. We're hoping that, with enough time to heal, that Sam will wake on his own with no complications."

"Wait… you're sayin' he could be…what? Brain damaged?" Dean cried, sliding from the chair and edging away from the tiny nurse.

"Mr. Tyler… We're doing everything we can for Sam. He just needs to rest and heal." She touched his arm comfortingly. "I can take you to him, if you're ready."

"You kiddin' me?" Dean stood and she eased from the chair, walking quickly to the elevator with Dean on her heels.

"Dean, I need to warn you. He's on a lot of machinery. It might be a little disconcerting but he's really doing better than we expected after the complications."

"I've seen it before." Dean said, stepping into the elevator. The elevator dinged and the doors slid open, Dean easing through the metal portal before they were fully open. He stopped when he belatedly realized he didn't know Sam's room number. Teresa smiled,

"Third door down on the right. It's a private room. I'll check on ya both in a couple hours, okay?"

"Thanks." Dean said, turning to walk into Sam's room. He stopped inside the door, his heart in his throat at the sight that greeted him from the bed. Sam was laying flat on the pillows, with a lightweight blanket pulled up over his bare chest to just beneath his biceps where they rested against the mattress. Stark white gauze peeked out from beneath, over a patch of Sam's ribcage. A blue tube protruded from his mouth, held in place by a band of strapping that wrapped around it and fastened around Sam's head beneath his ears. The _whoosh-click_ of the ventilator and a steady rhythmic beep were the only sounds in the dimly lit room. Sam's face was pale, dark smudges rested beneath his closed eyes and were partially disguised by the crescents of Sam's dark eyelashes. His chest raised beneath the blanket with the sound of the ventilator, the click sounding as his chest lowered. Dean swallowed hard and stepped up to the bed, hooking a leg in the chair that rested just a couple feet away. He pulled it with him and plopped down against the hard plastic.

Dean reached a hand out, hesitating before pulling it back to drop into his lap listlessly. Dean remained silent, his green eyes watering as they roamed over Sam and the machinery keeping him alive. Sighing, he finally broke the silence. "I'm sorry." he whispered reaching again for Sam. This time his hand connected, laying on Sam's right hand, his fingers absently playing with the small strand of black around Sam's wrist. "Guess they couldn't get that off, huh?" Dean huffed a short laugh. "Makes sense, you were a runt when I gave ya that. I'm glad they didn't cut it." Dean fell into a comfortable silence, his thumb working over the back of Sam's right wrist.

Dean watched as Sam's chest rose and fell, the rhythm seeming artificial to his eyes. He found himself dozing half heartedly, the discomfort of the hard plastic long forgotten. His eyes closed against his will, exhaustion sweeping him like a wave.

"_DEAN!" Sam called out, reaching over the wall. Dean felt himself gripped by his little brother's strong hands. He looked up to see Sam looking down at him, pain ricocheting across his features as blood poured from his lips. Dean watched the crimson fluid pool on Sam's lower lip before dripping onto the back of Dean's hand. Dean flinched with each drop, his fingers slipping from Sam's hand a little more each time. _

"_De-" Sam cried, blood bubbling now, frothing at the corners of his pain pinched mouth. Dean saw Sam's breath fog as the poltergeist made it's reappearance. Dean felt Sam's hand ripped from his, saw his brother disappear over the wall and Dean was falling. He hooked a flailing arm over the support rail that he managed to grab onto. He grabbed the wall and fought his way up, climbing over to fall hard to the concrete on the other side, breathing heavily. He saw his brother laying just a couple feet from him, eyes closed, face pale and blood stained. Dean scrambled to his knees, rushing to Sam. _

"_No!" Dean cried, pulling Sam up against his chest. Sam's head lolled and fell against Dean's collarbone, forehead in the crook of his neck. Dean reached for a pulse and felt nothing but Sam's rapidly cooling flesh. "Oh god, oh god." He hugged his brother tight as he felt the temperature plummet. A fog gathered in front of him and coalesced into a man._

"_Dean." a familiar voice said. Dean looked up, tears coursing through his stubble. _

"_Dad?"_

"_I told ya to watch after him, boy."_

"_I-I did."_

"_If you'd did your job, he wouldn't be like that." John said, pointing a translucent finger at the body Dean held close. _

"_N-no. I protected him with everything I had! I love Sammy. I'd die for him!"_

"_Then why didn't you?" John waved a spectral hand and Dean found himself dangling from the support rail once more._

_Sam ran to the wall and Dean saw him look over. "Dean! Thank god! Reach for me!" Sam panted, leaning over the wall as far as he could. He groaned, catching hold of Dean's wrist, fingers digging deep around his wrist._

"_No Sammy! You're hurt." Dean said. "Let me go."_

"_No!" Sam said, blood just beginning to show on his teeth. _

"_LET GO! I won't lose you because of me!" Dean said, jerking his wrist free. He felt himself falling, the sound of rushing water drowning out Sam's cry._

Dean gasped and jerked upright, tears in his eyes and a cry on his lips. Dean swung up from the chair and grabbed his jacket, rushing from the room. He ran down the hall, skipping the elevator and rushing for the stairs, barreling through the door. He braced a hand against the wall, on the smooth white paint of a concrete wall, for just a second before taking off down the steps and onto landing after landing at a dead run. Tears blurred his vision which he blinked viciously away, not really caring though if he fell and broke his neck. He was alive and Sam was on that bed. He let Sam down. He let dad down._ I let them down. I always do. I damn near lost Sammy because I was fuckin' scared. How is that protecting him?!" _Dean stumbled out the exterior door of the hospital, finding the Impala where he'd left it after moving it in one of his relentless pacing tours of the building. He collapsed, legs going to mush beneath him and just managed to turn and slide down her sleek black fender well to rest his back against the front tire. The sobs he'd fought desperately to hold back were now released. Dean pulled his knees up to his chest and ran his right hand up over his head, his silver ring glinting dully in the moonlight as it came to rest on the crown of his head, fingers flexing in his short spikes. Sobs tore through him, shaking him to the core as his dream came back to the forefront of his mind.

**A/N: Hope you liked the start of this. I'll update as soon as I can. Please review and let me know what you think!**


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: Thanks for the vote of confidence and the huge welcome back to the world of writing. Also, all the reviews you guys have left have been really great. Means a lot to me. Just enjoy the next chapter and I'll see you before the weekend with the last one. Just a slight bit of Language once again.  
**

**Chapter 2**

The moon was high in the sky when Dean finally pulled himself together, straightening his legs out to rest in front of him at awkward angles. He leaned his head back against the top of the tire and pulled in a hitching breath, digging his palms into his gritty eyes. "Gotta get back to Sammy." He muttered, pulling himself up with a groan. Dean returned slowly to the hospital, his steps unsure, ready to bolt once again if the memories threatened to attack once more. He eased inside his brother's room to find Teresa leaning over Sam, a stethoscope in her ears and listening intently to Sam's chest. Dean waited just inside the door until she pulled it away and stood upright before he cleared his throat. She turned.

"Hi again."

"How's Sammy doin'?"

"His lungs are clear, sounds good. He just needs to rest until he's stronger and he'll come out of this Dean." She walked up to him, with him shifting his weary gaze to a point on the back wall just over her head. "If you need anything just call. Someone will be by to help."

"Thanks."

She put a calm, strong hand on his shoulder. "I mean it, Dean. We all want to see Sam get well." Dean nodded and went to the chair he'd unceremoniously vacated after the nightmare. He resumed his seat, his tired eyes flicking between the monitors, machinery and Sam's lax face. Teresa left, looking back just once, to see Dean's shoulders slump as he leaned forward, resting an arm on Sam's bed.

"Heya Sammy. I'm back."

Dean kept his vigil beside the bed, watching Sam unerringly. Talking. Seemingly non stop. Dean's voice was hoarse and yet he continued to talk. Dean's voice finally broke and he leaned further forward, resting his forehead on the back of Sam's hand, now silent. His fingers tangled in Sam's hand as tired green eyes slid shut, welcoming a bit of restive darkness.

***

Sunlight streamed through the hospital window, cutting a swath over Sam's chest and falling on Dean's face. He moved to raise his head, his eyes blinking as they adjusted to the light and he woke up. It dawned on him that his shoulder felt heavier than normal. He shrugged and felt a familiar hand squeeze his shoulder before sliding away. Dean's head shot up, his wide eyes meeting a nearly matching set of blue-green. "Sammy!" Dean said, clapping a hand on Sam's shoulder. Sam's eyes roved over Dean's features, his mouth working as fear set in, slight choking sounds issuing forth. "Shh, shh. Sammy, it's a vent. You're on a vent. You're alright." Sam's hand fluttered and Dean caught his wrist, lowering the appendage, while retaining the grip on Sam's hand. He squeezed reassuringly. "Dude, it's alright. 'M right here. Jus' gonna page your doc." Dean's other hand hit the call button fastened to the bed and then returned to his brother's shoulder.

A minute passed and the door opened. "Dean, what's…" Julia broke into a grin as her green eyes roved to meet the new set of blue green in the room. "Sam!" She stepped forward, pulling her stethoscope from her neck to settle it in place, checking Sam over. A couple moments later she stepped back and smiled. "Everything sounds good, I'm going to get the doctor and see when we can get you off the ventilator." She said, squeezing Sam's arm. She walked away.

"Ya hear that Sammy. Gonna be fine." Dean sat in silence, his eyes on his brother's face as Sam seemed to appraise him, worry darkening the blue green to a deeper near teal color. The doctor walked into the room followed by Julia. "Dean." Dr. Nelson said cordially. "Sam, it's good to see those eyes of yours. I'm Mike Nelson, I've been your doctor since you were admitted almost four days ago." Nelson shined his pen light into Sam's eyes and studied the reaction, pleased with the results and chuckling a bit as an irritated look crossed Sam's face. "Looks good. Sam, do you know where you are?" Sam nodded slightly, his eyes shifting to Dean once more. Dean felt Sam squeeze his hand and looked down as Sam's fingers shifted. He was forming signs with his fingers. A long ago code that they had made up as boys. Something only brothers shared.

"Sammy!" Dean broke into a smile as he put together the signs. "He knows he's in the hospital. He told me."

"Well, looks like everything seems fine. We'll take you off the ventilator, run some more tests and let you get some rest." Dean continued to keep his grip on Sam's hand, thumb circling soothingly. "Okay Sam, we're going to disconnect you from the machine and then we'll remove the tube from your throat. Are you ready for this?" The doc asked, nodding when Sam did, and Julia stepped close and unfastened the tube from the piece in Sam's mouth. Sam's hand spasmed in Dean's, seeking comfort. Nelson gripped the piece remaining in Sam's mouth and looked at his patient. "Now Sam, I want you to take as deep a breath as your ribs will allow and when I give the signal I want you to blow. Ready?" Sam pulled in a breath and nodded slightly. The doctor pulled and Sam wound up red faced and coughing. Dean returned the death grip Sam had on his hand and tried to calm his brother. Sam's head finally fell back against the pillow, tears leaking from his eyes.

"Easy kiddo." Dean said, putting his forehead against Sam's arm.

"I'll get you some ice chips Sam. See if we can't soothe that throat of yours." Julia said, fixing an oxygen line beneath Sam's nose and patting the back of his hand. She walked away.

"I'll come back and see you again Sam after you've had a chance to relax." Mike said.

Sam's eyes slid shut and he nodded.

"De-" Sam croaked. Dean's head shot up from it's resting place and his eyes glittered.

"Don't you do that. Don't talk yet. You need to give it some time Sammy. Jus'… please." Dean said, cupping the side of Sam's neck. Sam turned his head into Dean's hand and sighed. Julia came back into the room and Dean turned to her, taking the offered cup of ice and a plastic spoon. Julia helped Sam ease into a hospital gown and left after giving him a small smile

"Here Sammy." Dean said, spooning some ice into Sam's mouth as he savored the cooling effect it had.

"_Thanks." _Sam whispered. Dean smiled.

"Ya jus' don't listen do ya?"

"Not so much." Sam said, a little smile tipping his lips up at the corners. "You okay?"

Dean stared incredulously. "Me?!" Dean sagged back against the chair and scrubbed a hand over his face. "You just came off a freakin' vent and you ask _me_ if _I'm okay?!"_

Dean pushed up from the chair and paced across the room. "I'm peachy Sam! You almost DIED, because I couldn't get my _act together!_"

"No, Dean. This wasn't you. None of this was your fault." Sam said, reaching for the control to raise the head of the bed. He raised the bed and winced when the movement pulled his stitches. Dean caught the flicker of pain and dropped his hands to rest at his side, the fury leaving as his shoulders slumped.

"Sam, take it easy." Dean chided, stepping forward and adjusting Sam's pillow so that he was reclining comfortably but upright enough to suit him. "Look, ya just woke up. Don't push anything, alright?"

"Then talk to me. What happened?" Dean pulled the chair close to the bed and sat, licking his lips as he thought about how to begin describing the hell that was the last few days.

"You know we dusted the bastard poltergeist? Well, ya wound up needin' surgery to fix your lung an' a bleed. But you're gonna be okay so that's all I care about." Dean finally said, leaning forward against the bed.

Dean and Sam made some small talk, Dean just glad to hear his baby brother's voice, scratchy as it was. Finally Sam's responses and words got slightly slurred and fewer and farther between. "Get some sleep Sammy. I'll be here." Dean settled in to watch over his brother, at one point taking an offered sandwich from Teresa when she came on duty and listened to the noises outside the room as the hospital settled down for the evening. He never even realized he'd begun to doze.

It was dark when Dean woke, visiting hours long over. Someone had left him stay even though Sam was awake and getting better. He wasn't about to endanger that fact, so Dean walked quietly down the hall to the coffee machine intent on returning to the room to while away the night talking to his brother.

He took a sip of the steaming brew, nodding at Teresa who was alone behind the nurse's station desk. He caught sight of himself in a computer screen as it went black just before the screen saver kicked in.

Dean looked at his reflection in the surface of the screen, something making him pay close attention. The short hairs rose on his neck and a cool breeze wafted over him.

****

Sam jumped awake when the door to the room slammed loudly, the sound reverberating through the room, echoing off the walls and floor, with little to muffle it. He felt the air grow cold even as sweat broke out over his clammy skin. His breathing hitched and he saw the air in front of his mouth fog as he released a shaky breath.

"Damn." he muttered, reaching to push the covers back, hating how weak he still felt. He never got the chance as he felt himself being pulled from the bed to be tossed harshly to the tile floor. He gasped as he landed on his right side, his elbow burrowing into the healing flesh of his chest. He felt something give in his chest once more as he groaned, pain lancing through him. He felt something grab him, unseen, and shove him across the room. His left temple bounced hard off the legs of the small rolling table as he slid to a stop, his bare legs squeaking over the tile as the shoulder of his blue hospital gown ripped. Sam's world went black, blood seeping into the baby blue material that covered his chest.

"Fuck." Dean growled, the word coming from between his lips on a burst of frosty condensation. "Sammy!" Dean said, turning and running from the nurse's station. He shot down the hallway only to hear a door slam with a resounding bang nearby. Dean threw himself into the door that barred him from his little brother, the wood remaining sturdy.

"Sonuvabitch!" Dean growled as pain ricocheted through his nerves. "SAM!" Dean cried, looking through the small window when a crash sounded out from within the room. He caught sight of his brother, lying still on the tile floor.

"Dean, what?"

"Teresa!" Dean cried, throwing himself at the door again. "I can't get to Sammy!"

"Dean, what's going on?"

"There's somethin' bad in that fuckin' room with him!"

"What!" Teresa turned. "I'll get security!"

"NO! I can't fight with a bunch of rent-a- cops that won't listen to me. Sammy doesn't have that kinda time! He's hurt. I can tell." Dean grabbed her by the shoulders. "Just go back to whatever you were doing and let me take care of this." Dean turned and ran from the hospital, not stopping until he reached the trunk of his beloved Impala. He slammed the lid open and grabbed everything he could, ramming it into a canvas bag. Shouldering the bag he rushed back inside.

"SAM!" Dean cried, slamming into the door that the poltergeist sealed off, separating him from his brother. He saw Sam's unconscious form being attacked by the unseen spirit, watched with his heart in his throat as Sam was propelled across the room, his lower back and the back of his knees hitting the bottom casters on the bed. Dean pulled a black flask from his pocket and opened the lid, flinging the white granules it contained at the door. An inhuman shriek rent the air and Dean slammed into the door once more, splintering the heavy wood around the knob. The door continued to hold. Teresa caught a glimpse of Sam on the floor from the corner of the window, unmoving and bloody.

"Dean, you have to get us in there!"

"Ya think I don't know that?!" Dean cried, slamming into the door once again. "You get to him and you get him what he needs. Keep your head low and when I tell you to cover your eyes you do it. 'M trustin' you to protect m'brother." Teresa nodded. Dean slammed into the door a final time, grunting with rage. The door splintered and burst in. Dean rushing in to be swept off his feet by an invisible force. He slammed into the wall and slid down, trying to catch his breath. Teresa skirted him quietly, rushing to Sam.

"SONUVABITCH!" Dean swore, shoving himself upright. He reached for the duffle that had been knocked from his arms. He skidded as the poltergeist shoved him from behind.

"Oarrgh! That's it!" Dean growled, standing once more, with mojo bags clasped in his hands.

Dean rushed into the adjoining bathroom and ripped one of the safety bars from it's position on the wall, the heavy stainless steel feeling good in his hands. He barreled back through the room and rammed the end of the bar into the wall, ripping through tile and wallboard and into the vacant space behind. He dropped a bag in and rushed to another corner as the poltergeist attacked again, slamming the rolling tray table into his abdomen with enough force to take him to the hard tile.

Teresa slid to her knees and reached for Sam, checking his pulse to find it thready and weak. He wheezed. "Hang on Sam." She said, keeping as low as possible and dragging over a small oxygen tank. She fastened the mask over Sam's nose and mouth, curling around him to shield him as the temperature plummeted. She caught a glimpse of Dean's legs as he propelled himself across the room, ramming the safety bar through the wall once more, grunting with exertion as he watched tile crash to the floor. Dean shoved another bag into the newly formed hole and headed for another corner. The temperature plummeted again as the bed Sam had been resting on began to shake, the casters of the heavy piece of equipment cracking the floor tiles as it began to rock and bounce. Teresa gasped as the bed shot across the floor and clipped Dean, sending him crashing into the wall. Blood smudged the tile as Dean slumped, momentarily stunned. Dean shook his head and pushed himself up from the mattress, trying to free his pinned lower body.

Dean held the bed back as the poltergeist tried to use it to shove him through the wall _or cut me in freakin' half!_ He reached for the flask in his pocket and pulled it out, taking off the lid with his teeth as he panted to breathe, the bed pushing harder. He shook rock salt from the flask on to the mattress, flinging some into the empty air surrounding the bed, and pulled in a breath as the poltergeist shrieked and the bed stopped pushing at him. Dean stood straight and winced as intense bruising made itself known. He shoved the now motionless bed away and headed for the third corner. The objects in the room began levitating, the cup that once held ice, now melted, hurled itself at Dean as other small objects began leaving various cabinets and drawers throughout the room. The tray table launched itself across the room to lodge a rounded corner into the wall just in front of him as he stopped short.

"You stupid sonuvabitch! Yer makin' this too easy!" Dean cried with joy as he shoved the table away and tossed the third bag into the hole the poltergeist made. The wind blew harshly through the room as the spook turned it's attention on Sam and Teresa. Dean saw the fear in Teresa's eyes as the wind whipped her hair around her face and she huddled closer to Sam, struggling to hold on as the poltergeist latched onto him and began shaking him harshly, his head banging off the bloody tile floor. The oxygen tank fell over, ripping the small tube from the mask as the tank slammed to the tile, the gauge busting as the pressurized gas burst from the leaking valve. The tank hissed fiercely before rocketing across the room to bury itself in the wall, valve deep, just two feet from the forth corner of the room.

"LET GO OF HIM!" Teresa cried as she held onto Sam, clamping her hands tight to the blood rushing from Sam's torn stitches. His wheezing worsened as internal pressure built up and he couldn't get any oxygen. His lips were turning blue.

"DEAN!" Teresa cried, as Sam went limp.

Dean bolted for the forth corner and slid the bag in beside the embedded oxygen tank. "COVER YOUR EYES!" he screamed, hunkering down as a bright blinding light built through the room. The spirit shrieked as the room shook briefly. The light faded and Dean lowered his arm from his face.

"Sam!" Dean screamed, rushing to his brother as Teresa raised her head where she'd lowered it over Sam's, protecting both her eyes and Sam's limp body with her arms.

"He's barely breathing! That thing…he's hemorrhaging. Pressure is building up in his abdominal cavity from the bleed. His stitches burst." Dean gathered up another oxygen tank from the corner of the wrecked room and rushed over, helping Teresa fasten it as she pulled off the other, ruined mask.

"Go get help. I'll get Sammy safe." Teresa stood on shaking legs and ran from the wrecked room. Dean hunkered down and applied pressure, grimacing as blood coated his hands from holding pressure on the wound. "You stay with me little brother. Ya hear me?"

******

Dean looked up when Teresa walked into the room, her pretty face pinched and tired looking. He smelled the soap on her. "Teresa?" Dean questioned, not liking the look on her face.

"Dean." She said quietly, sitting on the burgundy upholstered chair next to him.

"What is it?"

"Sam arrested on the table. Again. We got the bleed stopped and managed to relieve the pressure. Got him back. We had to wire his ribs this time. He's going to need quite some time to fully heal, but he's holding his own. We moved him to another room. I can take you to him if you'd like."

"Hell yes."

Teresa stood. "Dean, what was that? Back there?"

"A poltergeist. Freakin' nasty bastard."

"Ghost?"

"Somethin' like that."

"And how did you know…"

"'S what Sammy and I do. Kinda the family business."

"So… Ghostbusters are real?"

"Among other things."

"I really don't wanna know."

"No, you probably don't. Take me to Sammy."

**A/N: Chapter three will be up before the big weekend for all us stateside people and a couple Canadians. I'll see you Friday my friend. **


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: Here's the end of this one. I hope it's not too fast paced, or lacking. Thanks again for all the support. Enjoy...**

**Oh and for another friend who's reading. Don't shoot the writer girl, but I know you're gonna catch something in this chapter. Consider it my nod for a shove in the right direction with another little bit of a story.  
**

**Chapter 3**

Dean again hesitated at the door to Sam's room, seeing him lost on another bed, surrounded by machinery. This time there was no _whoosh-click,_ just the steady, soft beep and the slightest hiss of the oxygen being fed to Sam through a mask. He was pale, dark circles beneath his eyes, arms lax against the mattress. The lighting in the room was dim, mostly from the window of the room, sunrise coloring the sky outside. Dean let himself in the room and pulled the chair close to the bed, his finger reaching out to ghost over bruises on Sam's arm.

"Why is it every time my head's not in the game, you're the one who pays?" Dean snarled beneath his breath, self loathing evident in the rigid set of his shoulders. "I mean, damn, first is was the Shtriga, then that damn demon booby trap with dad. Now this…all because I… because my head's not right." Dean leaned forward, resting his forehead in his hands, elbows on Sam's bed. "Freakin' hunt. Took everything from us an' now, because I'm not alright, it's tryin' to take you." Dean wiped harshly at his eyes, leaving his fingers over the watering green orbs. His shoulders shook silently and he finally lowered his head to rest on the mattress, his spiky hair just brushing Sam's wrist.

_Dean stood, turning in the darkness at a sound behind him. A man stepped out of the shadows, his brother's tall form held in front of him. It had a firm hand clasped around Sam's throat, it's face shadowed._

"_Ya were supposed to protect him, boy!" a sharp voice barked from behind Dean. He spun, moving so that his eyes flicked between the figure that held his brother captive and the new comer. _

"_Dad?"_

"_That thing got to Sam because you didn't do the one thing I thought ya could! Sam's hurt because ya didn't look after him good enough!"_

"_Dad, I…"_

"_Sammy here's always been my goal. Your mommy? She was just a consolation prize, daddy too." The figure holding Sam sneered, yellow eyes glinting with a light all their own. The hand at Sam's throat tightened and Sam gasped, groaning in pain as blood began to seep through his shirt at his torso. It ran down the fabric of his flannel to seep into the waistband of his jeans, his face going pale as pain registered on his features. _

"_See Deano- Sammy's all mine."_

"_Ya let me down, Dean. Ya let Sammy down."_

"_NO!" Dean said, rushing his father, swinging a fist. The figure disappeared. Dean growled and rushed the demon then, pulling Sam from his arms. The yellow eyed demon backed away and disappeared into the darkness. _

"_D-Dean." Sam stuttered. _

"_Shh, I gotcha. I gotcha and I'm not gonna let go. Never gonna let ya down again."_

Dean bolted upright in the chair with a gasp and pushed away from the bed. He paced across the room and looked out the window, seeing the rain coming down, trickling down the glass before striking the window ledge and running off. Dean's mood matched the rain as he looked out, determined to do the one thing he could to protect his brother. Leave until he could get his head back into the hunt. For now though he would wait. He couldn't find the strength to leave if there was still a possibility that there would be no Sammy to fight his way back to.

"Goin' for coffee Sammy." Dean said, pulling his tired body up from the chair and leaving the room. Dean found himself standing outside in the rain, the coffee in his hand untouched and rapidly cooling as it caught rain water. Dean walked to where the Impala waited patiently for him. "Hey girl." Dean muttered, blinking wetness from his eyes. He eased the door open, the familiar squeak making his lower lip tremble. Dean slid behind the wheel, his eyes everywhere but the bench beside him. He finally stilled and focused on the rain water coursing down the windshield.

Tears dripped from his eyes and slipped down between his stubble. _Why? Dad… you always told me to watch after Sammy. I've always done my best. Then…I hear this voice in my head, screaming at me. An' it's yours dad. Take care o' Sammy. Save Sammy. If you can't save Sammy, ya might have to kill 'im…_

_I'm so scared now. All the time. Somethin' is waiting to take Sammy from me. Somethin' bad…an' I don't know what. Now it's like I know I can't protect him and every single thing that happens…it's bad. I don't know how to stop it. I don't know if I can. All I know is that if I'm not around, then he can't be hurt because of me. _Dean startled and hurriedly rolled down the window, flinging the cup of cold coffee from the opening. The cup hit the pavement several feet away and coffee mingled with rainwater.

_***_

Dean eased from the car and walked back into the hospital, walking into Sam's room. It was dim, the lighting turned low. "You were gone a long time for coffee." a whisper of a voice greeted Dean's ears and he gasped, moving to the bed.

"Sammy?"

"Hey."

"Aw, hey." Dean sat back on his chair and reached for Sam, cupping the side of his neck. Sam tipped his head slightly and put pressure on Dean's fingers. His eyes slipped closed. Dean sat through another night, watching his brother. Dean rubbed at his eyes tiredly just after dawn and stood from the chair, his back cracking. Sam continued to sleep and Dean slipped out to get something to eat returning to the motel down the road to shower and change clothes. A couple hours later he was walking back into Sam's room.

"Hey."

"You awake?" Dean asked, hearing his little brother's soft word of greeting and taking in the still closed eyes.

"If you can call it that?" Sam questioned, blue green peeking through the slits of his eyelids.

Dean snorted a laugh. "Doped to the gills, huh?"

"Think so." Sam said, the corners of his lips tipping up. His eyes drifted shut. Dean reached a hand out and gripped Sam's shoulder.

"At least you're getting better."

**Five days later…**

"Sam, what the hell are you doing?" Sam stiffened at the rage in Dean's voice. Dean flung his jacket over the back of the chair, stepped forward and caught Sam under the arms, easing him back to the bed.

"I had to move." Sam said, a grimace crossing his features as he shifted restlessly on the bed.

"Damnit Sam!" Dean said, stilling Sam with a hand to the shoulder, before he pulled back, turning away from his little brother.

"Dean?" Sam questioned. "Dean what?"

Dean grabbed his jacket again and shrugged into it once more. "Wait, where are you going?"

"Out."

"Why?"

"Because Damnit!" Sam jumped at Dean's tone and stared at his brother's back. "Because I can't take care of you." Dean said, his shoulders tense as he remained turned steadfastly away from Sam.

"What?" Sam asked, his voice rough as his blue green eyes welled with tears.

"It's my fault you're here. My fault you're hurt."

"No. It isn't."

"It's not? My mind wasn't even in the hunt. Hell I didn't even know what the fuck went wrong!" Dean turned around and faced Sam, rage and self loathing on his face. "Sam, when you reached for me, over that barrier… I knew you were hurt. I saw the pain on your face and I still latched on. I still used you to save my ass."

"No. I reached for you because you're my family! You are the last good thing I got left." Sam said, his breath ratcheting up a notch as his face paled.

"I almost lost you….so many times. An' after Dad…after dad, I can't do that again. I can't take it! I mean, you stopped breathing in the freakin' car. Two minutes out and you stopped. Got ya here 'cos there was nothin' else I could do. They gotcha back and then it happened again. You arrested twice. Twice Sammy. Twice ya get hurt and twice I damn near lose ya, all because my mind…it's not where it should be."

Sam blinked again, a tear leaving his eye to course down his cheek. His breath hitched and he felt his breath leave him on a sob.

"Dean…"

"Dad trusted me to take care of you. I can't do it. I keep letting you down. Him. I can't even manage to take care of you Sammy. I gotta leave. You'll be safe if I leave." Dean turned away and headed for the door again. Sam gasped, pulling off his oxygen tube, and pushing himself up from his reclined position. He stretched out an arm towards his brother's back.

"Wait! Dean…" Sam breathed, pain coursing through his ribs and lungs. "PLEASE!" Sam sat up on the bed, leaning sideways as he reached out for Dean. He rasped harshly, his breath refusing to stay in his lungs. Dean heard the sound and turned around, seeing Sam's anguish filled pale face, hearing him fighting for breath.

"Sammy." Dean breathed, moving quickly to his side. He grasped Sam's outstretched, shaking hand and pulled him gently into his arms, reaching for the nasal cannula that Sam had discarded. He fastened it beneath Sam's nose and around his ears and pulled Sam closer, running a hand over the back of his neck in a soothing motion. "I'm here. I'm here."

Sam pulled in several breaths, finally relaxing against Dean's chest. "You never…let me down. You always took care of me. Better than dad. Better than… pastor Jim. Anyone. You raised me Dean. I'm still here because of you. Only you. You're my brother."

"Get some sleep Sammy. I'm here." Dean said, settling into his position next to Sam, relishing the feel of his brother resting in his arms, getting better. Dean's lips turned down, remembering all the times that Sam trusted him with his life and that is was close. Too close. Then other memories stepped in, memories of the times that Sam was okay. The times that Dean had done his job and Sam smiled. Sam was safe. _Never letcha down again little brother._

**Ten days later…**

Teresa walked into the room after knocking softly against the door frame. Sam looked up from his laptop, where he sat on the bed, clad in jeans and a soft brown and gray flannel with a white tee shirt underneath. His sock feet were propped up, crossed at the ankle, his shoes sitting by the bed.

"So I guess Dean went to sign your release papers?"

"Yeah. I'm finally getting sprung."

Teresa smiled. "Where are you and Dean going now?"

"Dunno. Was lookin' for a job, but I get the feeling Dean'll wanna hole up somewhere for a while."

"It's a good idea, Sam. You almost died, a couple times."

"Damn straight, it's a good idea." Dean said, leaning against the doorway with a smirk on his face. "Listen to your nurse Sammy."

"Bite me." Sam said good naturedly, a matching smirk on his face.

"Your wheels are on their way."

"What?! Aw, come on…"

"Hospital policy Sam." Teresa said, a smile lighting her features. Another nurse pushed a wheelchair into the room. Dean smirked again as Sam glowered. Dean stepped forward as Sam sat up on the bed and reached down for his shoes. He hesitated, his ribs still catching painfully. Dean reached for Sam's sneakers and put them on for him, as Sam sat straight and wrapped an arm around his middle.

"Chariot awaits, princess."

"Jerk."

"I'll should tie you to it and it to the back bumper. Bitch."

Dean took the handles and wheeled Sam out of the room, Teresa having handed Sam his laptop after putting it in the leather bag. Dean backed the chair into the elevator, letting Sam press the ground floor button from his vantage point. He sat back and waited for the doors to close. The car gave a short lurch and started down.

Between two and three, the lights gave a short flicker and Dean stiffened and reached a hand into his waistband for his gun. He turned at Sam's gasp. A small, dark haired woman in nurse's scrubs stood next to them in the car. She flickered and turned to the Winchesters, a smile making her pale face pretty. She spoke then, a soft accent reaching the boys' ears.

"Thank ya for savin' me 'ospital, mates." She smiled again and flickered, disappearing.

Sam looked up at his brother who looked down at him, his mouth gaping before he shrugged.

******

Dean glanced up from the laptop screen, a woman's picture and an article on the page he'd looked up. "Hey."

"Yeah?" Sam said from the bed, where he reclined, printed research material in his lap.

"The chick spook in the elevator? Name was Johanna Tunney. Turns out she was head nurse, died in a stabbing three years ago by a patient who security killed in a hostage situation." Dean looked back at the screen. "Brought in for mental instability. 'Joey' as everyone called her, volunteered to work with him, said she had a bad feeling about 'im and that she wanted to protect her hospital."

"Guess she still is, huh?"

"Guess so."

Sam eased carefully from the bed, walking over to look at the screen over Dean's shoulder. "She had guts."

"Yeah."

"Dean, I know you're worried that you can't protect me. After what Dad told you and what's been goin' on…well, I just want you to know that you shouldn't worry about it. I know you do, but you shouldn't. You've been keeping me safe since I was six months old. It's what you're best at. Just don't doubt yourself. I don't."

Dean looked at Sam briefly, his green eyes searching Sam's face, noting the better color and the fading dark circles. _Maybe I can._ Dean thought, before a smirk crossed his face. He switched tabs on the computer, catching Sam's eye. _Busty Asian Beauties _glittered across the screen. Sam laughed and cuffed Dean on the head.

"Dude, don't lock up my computer surfin' porn."

**A/N: I hope you all liked this story. I've got just a bit of a July Fourth fic coming up. Hopefully the next one you'll get to see from me is a one shot based in Skag Trendy's 'verse _The Winchester Werewolf Chronicles: Shades of Night. _I'm just waiting for the right moment. If you haven't read _Hunter of the Shadows,_ get over there and read. It's freakin' beautiful! I'm not at all biased because it was for me either! It is a full on life altering read! So much thought and planning and love went into it. You're really missing some of the best writing around if you haven't caught it. Go on. Drop me a review and then get over there!**


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